


i am but wind

by Strange and Intoxicating -rsa- (strangeandintoxicating)



Series: Freedom [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, moved from my alt Luna-centric account
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22100365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeandintoxicating/pseuds/Strange%20and%20Intoxicating%20-rsa-
Summary: Luna has always been a bird trapped within a gilded cage(Nyx!Lives AU told in drabbles)
Relationships: Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Nyx Ulric
Series: Freedom [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590736
Kudos: 6





	i am but wind

Lunafreya leaned against the door of the Niflheim ship, resting her head to the metal. It was a cold comfort to her, a pinch to her skin that reminded her that yes—she was alive. 

She ached, she pained, but she was _alive_.

She could have laughed at the fate of it all. The one to cure the Scourge of the Stars locked up tight and hidden from sight. Hadn’t that been her entire life? 

She was a bird, the gilded edges of her prison beautiful and sharp. If she tried to touch it….

That had been her life for years, ever since Tenebrae had fallen. She had been bound and chained, held down to the desires of others, with no one to hear her screams. Ravus… Ravus had tucked his anger inside of himself. Swaddled in their anger, nursed by their propaganda, baptized in the fire of their hatred.

Lunafreya was alone. 

She had known it since she had let go of King Regis’s hand. She had doomed herself to her fate.

Sometimes, when the nights were cold and all she could feel were the bruises across her cheeks and hear the whispers of the gods in her head, Luna wished she had never let go of his hand. 

It was her duty.

Duty.

She could remember the feeling as she leaned down in the blood-soaked grass, fingers fumbling across slick metal as she pulled the pin from her mother’s hair.

She did not need the crown, for it was steel and heavy and gilded promises hidden by sweet nothings. 

She wanted her mother’s pin that she casually placed by the shell of her ear, the one that Lunafreya remembered from the warm hugs and gentle rocking after nightmares of drowning in a sea of cold water and nothingness.

And like biting metal, Lunafreya remembered. One of the Niflheim men snatched it from her hair soon after. It was not the only treasure he took.

She was a caged bird, and this was her song.

Lunafreya reached into her pocket, gently prying the small hair piece out. It was quite beautiful, really. Lucian-made, delicate silver and jeweled, but not overly so. It was so simple, so beautiful that unbidden tears sprung to her eyes. She hated it, hated the feeling bubbling up inside of her.

Silly little Luna, always crying. 

Always _caged_.

An image popped into her mind, an image that was blurry and foggy, yet she could clung to it.

What would her life been without duty? 

A choice. Happiness. Joy. 

She had never been given that choice.

Luna took in a deep breath and slowly closed her eyes. She could see it play out before her eyes—her family home, the sylleblossoms blooming and cresting across the horizon. She would sit in her mother’s rooms, legs resting on the couch next to her as she sipped on tea. The breeze would ruffle her hair, and she would be able to rest easy. Her mother would sit opposite her, and they would chat of the beautiful dawn they had watched. 

There would be a love, one that was all-encomposing, one that she had chosen, not one that was given to her as duty. She could have chosen him, chosen whomever she wanted. It would have been her choice.

The man from the other night, the one smelled of freedom... Something about him sang of that desire, of that need to be free. 

She wanted that freedom, that ability to just... _**be**_.

No wedding. No Niflheim. No Covenants. 

Noctis could be happy and safe. The sweet boy she remembered from so long ago, the one who she was tasked to help shepherd to his death, could live, unburdened and joyous.

And she? 

She could be a bird. 

She could sing of the wind, instead of a cage.

But no, she wanted more. She did not want to be just the birds, for birds could still have their wings clipped. 

She wanted to be the wind, controlled by nothing. She could be a gentle spring breeze or a roaring tornado.

But what she wanted meant nothing, because the metal still bit at her skin and she would never be free.


End file.
